It’s Sisyphean, in a way.

Death after death, you return to darkness, your death is explained to you, and you close your eyes to wake up to the pungent smell of sweat and smoke, of sea and dirt.

Death after death, you step on a new submarine to the Hadal Blacksite– or is it the same? You can’t tell. Do your companions experience it, too? Or is it just you? How many people have you already seen die, again?

Death after death, Sebastian makes his snarky comment on how you died, presents the document you should know by memory, before you wake up again. The supernatural is now a thing in your life, but who has the power to bring you back, exactly? And why?

For some reason, you feel like you’d rather stay ignorant. And it is for the best, really.

Yet, somehow… you are still the same. Because you don’t remember what comes after death, and that time spent walking or crawling just feels like a dream, even if it’s anything but that. And how are you the same age? How do you feel the same age?

By the time the usual questions swarm your mind and you’ve evaded one too many entities again, you reach door fifty.

A muffled voice.

“Alright, kid. I’ll hear from ya later. An Expendable’s here,” a familiar voice sounds from a closed vent, soon thrown open. It falls into the pit of the broken side of the room, precariously illuminated by a single light.

“Need to stock up? Come on in,” he soon beckons.

You assume that he was talking to p.AI.nter but, as soon as you enter, the attention is diverted to you. The cyan gaze regards you from above, focused solely on your form. And while you only see two eyes, you know there are three. It’s just that one is strategically hidden behind a curtain of black, wavy hair. But you know it’s there.

Of course, you are met with the familiar sight of Sebastian’s ominously tall– long?– form, not quite cramped but also not comfortable in the corner of his shop. The esca on his head is turned on to illuminate the room, though you still can’t see much further than the table with the keycard you’ll need to enter the next room.

“Oh–” Sebastian starts, his main pair of hands clasping as usual. He gives a pointy smirk, that lingering hint of condescension seeping in his tone when he adds, “A familiar face. Guess you don’t need an introduction, yeah?”

His words are accompanied by a subtle flap of his tail fin, while his third hand directs your attention to the familiar items and pouches strapped on his tail.